The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 233: what you’re looking at

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ew ee ee 8 + — THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. 219 uncle’s absence. What if he were to hide himself for a few hours—until the next night even—in one of the unoccupied apartments of the spacious dwelling ? Were he discovered, Ernestina must be appealed to in order to decide how the intruder was to be disposed of; and she dared not deal harshly with him. On the contrary, he would be safe beneath her protection, But then, as to food? He could yery well wait four-and-twenty hours in a fasting condition when his personal se- curity was concerned; and at all events if would be better to incur any risk or priyation within the hese than stand the ehanee of encountering Mr. Lawrence Sampson’s myrmidons outside the threshold, Rapid as thought alone can travel, did these re- flections sweep through the brain of Daniel Coffin as he stood at the dining-room door, looking forth into the hall. There was also something in the adventure that pleased him; and his resolve was soon taken accordingly. MHastily ascending the great marble staircase, he reached the landing on the first storey, and opened the nearest door. It Jed into the Crimson Drawing-room which has been mentioned in preceding chapters. The fire was smouldering in the grate—two wax candles were burping upon the mantel-piece—and a tray, containing a couple of decanters of wine and a dish of biscgits, stood upon the table. This little refreshment had been served up for Mrs. Oyen when she called upon the Marquis that afternoon; and the tray had not been removed. The Hangman was well pleased at the sight thereof; and he speedily poured at least a pint of sherry down his capacious throat. This was so much to his taste, that he lost no time in paying his respects with equal devotion to the Port; and in a few minutes the decanters were completely drained. . He then filled one of his ample pockets with the greater portion of the biseuits; and having thus self-appropriated the provender, he proceeded to examine the room with more atten- tion than at firsé. To remain concealed here was hopeless. The domestics, ere they retired for the nicht, would come to put out the fre and extinguish the ean- dies. Whither should he go? Scareely had he asked himself this question, when his eyes settled upon a door opposite to the one by whieh he had entered. He advanced to try it, but found it locked. This was no particularly formidable ob- stacle to Mr. Daniel Coffin. He felt in his poeket —drew forth a bunch of skeleton keys—and speedily opened the door. Taking one of the wax- tapers from the mantel, he passed into the adjoin- ing room: and now, as the reader will no doubt have already understood, the Hangman had en- tered the first of that mysterious suite of apart- ments which Venetia Trelawney was led to ex- plore on the evening of her yisit to Leveson House. Having hastily glanced around the room, which we have previously described as small but luxuri- ously furnished, the Hangman observed that there were wax-tapers upon the mantel. He accordingly lighted one of them, and then took back the one which he earried in his hand into the Crimson Drawing-room. This he did to prevent its being missed; and having restored it to its place, he re- traced his way into the other apartment, carefully -~ locking himself in by means of the skeleton key that had afforded him ingress. He naw examined this room with admiration and delight, muttering to himself a wish that he was the owner of that Jittle paradise. Having attentively surveyed the sofas ranged round the walls, the vases of flowers, and the various articles of furniture, his eyes were uplifted towards the silyer lamp that was suspended to the ceiling, but which was not burning now. After coutemplating it for about a minute, he stood upon a chair to examine it more closely ;— and thus convincing himself that it was real silver, he muttered, “Old Jeremy would give me a pretty penny for this! Well, I don’t think I need go away empty-handed when [ do take my departure.” Grimly smiling at this pleasant conceit, and al ready regarding the silver lamp as his own, Mr. Daniel Coffin descended from the chair—took a taper from the mantel—and passed into the adjoining room. This was smaller but more luxuriously fur- nished than the one he had just Jeft; and instead of sofas, it contained a@ number of large and massive arm-chairs, each provided with a cushion of im- mense size. But there was no choice collection of fruits, sweets, and wines now upon the table—nor was the lamp with the ground-glass giobe now lighted—as was the case when we introduced Vene- tia Trelawney to this apartment. Without pausing many minutes, Daniel Coffin proceeded to open the door which faced him; and, still holding the taper in his hand, he entered the gallery of pictures and sculptures, At first he was not inclined to pay much attention to these works of art; but their subjects speedily altered his mood, turning his indifference into eager curiosity, wonder, and sensual delight. We hayealready in a previous chapter depicted a few of the statuary groups and glanced at one of the pictures: but we must now observe that there were other groups and other pic- tures the flagrant indecency of which would even have brought a blush to the cheeks of the inmates of a brothel. I*rom the entrance of this gallery to the further extremity, the works of art became suc- cessively more and more indelicate, as if the whole purpose of the arrangement were gradually to lead on the imagination from the first petty shock, through all the phases of enhancing allurement, into the crowning grossness of the most nude and undis- guised lasciviousness. “ Well, *pon my soul, these noblemen are precious rum fellows to have such scenes as these in their houses,” thought Daniel Coffin to himself, as with increasing amazement he passed along the gallery, “ By goles! it gets worse and worse! If any body had told me he’d seen such a place in a nobleman’s mansion, I shouldn’t have believed him. And now that I recollect, this Marquis of Leveson is always holding forth in the House of Lords about the bad morals of the lower orders and the desecration of the Sabbath! Well, some men are hypocrites— rank impostors too! What statues—what paintings! The farther I advance, the more I seem to learn in the lessons of indecency. I suppose the Marquis brings his ladies here sometimes, I wonder whether his niece IXinestina has ever set foot in this gallery. If she has, she can’t be much better than she should be : and I dare say she’s not too. In fact, I suppose the Prince was enticed to Beechey Manor that night to be captivated by her charms. But Dysart kept his real motive snug enough, whatever it was. Well, (CCONNIELOOOLKS CO)